


under the white light

by cxsmictragedy



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Losers Club (IT), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, IT Chapter Two Fix-It, M/M, Mentioned Ben Hanscom, Post-Canon, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Soft Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 08:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29871840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cxsmictragedy/pseuds/cxsmictragedy
Summary: — for evie’s one-shot competition!prompt: white (up to interpretation)Eddie was far from unfamiliar with the filtered fluorescent lights of a hospital room, from the white gown that covered his body—from the white pills his mother would force down his throat, insisting they were for his health. Opening his eyes, even with the burn of the lights and unpleasant memories of his past (that had all but rushed at him when crossing the city line), he had never been happier to be in the hospital.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Kudos: 13





	under the white light

Eddie was far from unfamiliar with the filtered fluorescent lights of a hospital room, from the white gown that covered his body—from the white pills his mother would force down his throat, insisting they were for his health. Opening his eyes, even with the burn of the lights and unpleasant memories of his past (that had all but rushed at him when crossing the city line), he had never been happier to be in the hospital. 

Eddie could feel his head pounding, the punctures in his arms from the needles, and the shallow rises of his chest. If it weren’t for the faint pain and the hospital bed, he could almost trick himself into believing that the previous day hadn’t happened. Unfortunately, he couldn’t. He could still feel the weight of death on his shoulders, the footsteps from down the hall induced terror. 

He tried to remember what it felt like when they had defeated the clown the first time—but it came with horrific nightmares, paranoid eyes, and those horrible pills that he took willingly (if only to fall into a dreamless sleep). 

Richie Tozier—his closest childhood friend and teenage romance—laid sprawled uncomfortably in the chair beside his bed, light snores filling the room. His long legs were laid straight out, his arms coming to rest on the side of his body. 

Eddie almost reached his arm out, intending to remove his slanted glasses, but his movement was stuttered and weak. 

_ ‘Chee, how many times have I told you the dangers of sleeping with your glasses on. _

_ About as many times as your mom has said— _

“He hasn’t left your side, you know,” a feminine voice said from the doorway, tentatively moving closer as he relaxed. Her eyes were kind, but surprised. “How are you feeling? Your dosage hasn’t yet been lowered, as you weren’t supposed to wake for a few days with the injuries you sustained, if you woke at all.”

He attempted to open his mouth, but it felt hoarse from lack of use. The nurse smiled, “I’ll get you a glass of water. In the meantime, a few of your friends are in the waiting room—I can send in one if you want.”

He nodded, uttering Bev’s name in a broken whisper. With a gesture of agreement, the nurse exited the room, leaving Eddie to look over at Richie. When he was a kid, he’d also been a heavy sleeper, causing Eddie a headache whenever he slept over on the weekends. Oftentimes, he’d resort to pouring a cold glass of water on him or hitting him repeatedly with a pillow. 

“Hey, Eddie,” Beverly said lightly, interrupting the thoughts that had strangely returned to mind. She followed his gaze to Richie, the side of her lips twitching in amusement. “He refused to leave your side, even when thought...Even when we weren’t sure that you’d make it. He planned on dying by your side.”

“He’s an idiot,” Eddie replied, his voice scratchy. He attempted to swallow, but it only made him crave that cup of water even more. “Why?”

“Because, Eddie, he’d do anything for you. Even if he didn’t remember for a little while,” she replied, coming to sit on the edge of his bed. She pushed a strand of loose hair away from her eyes. “He wouldn’t leave your room either—until they threatened forceful removal while they worked on you. He was…unreasonable, wouldn’t listen to any of us.”

“Sounds like Richie.”

“Yeah,” Beverly said, her eyes darting to him. “He hasn’t changed much from when we were teenagers, and I don’t think you have either.”

“I think I changed more than I’d have liked,” he replied with a sigh. 

The nurse entered the room with a small knock on the door, careful not to startle them. Bev gestured sweetly at her, as if the two were old friends, and took the cup from her hands. Bev tipped the glass back, holding his chin to help Eddie drink.

“But your feelings haven’t,” she said slyly, her lips curled in amusement, setting the cup off to the side. “I could see how you looked at him as kids, I can see it now. And, I mean, technically, you never broke up.”

Eddie gaped at her, his eyes finding Richie once again—luckily, soft snores continued to fill the gaps of silence.  _ He’s not quiet, even while asleep _ . “Yes, we did! I think twenty three years of not talking constitutes a breakup, Bev.”

She shrugged, “Maybe, but I highly doubt it’ll last now that you remember him.”

“Just like Ben’s feelings for you?” 

“This isn’t about me and Ben, it’s about you and Richie,” she deflected, waving off the topic. “Besides, I don’t think Richie would be too opposed to the idea of you two being together.” 

“I think my wife would be pretty opposed,” he snarked under his breath. Beverly rolled her eyes.

“Do you even love her? Honestly?” Beverly could see the look of discontent in his words, the unhappy expression whenever he uttered her name. She didn’t find it her place to ask before, as she hadn’t been forthcoming about her (ex) husband. “When we were teenagers, you had told me you didn’t even like girls—that it felt wrong to you.”

Eddie nodded slightly, for which question Bev was unsure. He released a breath, “I had met Myra in college—and at the time, I had still lived with my mother. No matter my view, she wouldn’t let me leave, and I didn’t have the bravery I did when you all were around me. Myra met my mother, came over when I was out at a study group, and my mother had instantly liked her.”

Bev hesitated before speaking, “She pushed you into marriage?” 

“I was too afraid to say no, too scared to just scream that I liked men—so I said yes.”

Beverly sighed, standing up. “You deserve better than that.” She glanced at Richie, “You know he’d give you more than that. Your mother’s gone, Eddie, so what’s stopping you from going after what you want? From divorcing Myra?” 

“Guilt,” he said with a chuckle, though it was void of humor. 

Beverly reached out, shaking Richie. “Richie, honey, he’s awake.” She looked at Eddie, as Richie stirred from his sleep. “You deserve better.”

“Eds?” Richie said, rubbing his eyes from below his glasses. He stretched slightly, a yawn escaping. “You’re awake?”

“No, asshole, I’m sleep talking.” 

Richie chuckled. “There he is, my Eddie Spaghetti is all fixed up.” 

Eddie wanted to correct him, to tell him  _ again _ that those were not his name—but he found himself smiling. Looking into Richie’s eyes as he rambled about the conclusion of the fight, for the first time in his life, he felt happiness under the white fluorescent lights—and at home when he was in Richie’s gaze. 


End file.
